hang with me (3/4)
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Blaine-centric.
Rating/Word Count: PG // 3685
Summary: It's official: Blaine's not a Warbler anymore.
Part One
Part Two
Note: This took so long to finish because, well, the Glee Machine is really disheartening for a number of reasons and, even though I still do love this pairing, it's really hard for me to enjoy Glee at all now. The premiere just made me really furious and spoilers aren't exactly helping and I'm just kind of over this show being such a suckfest. The things that are wrong with it continue to be wrong with it with no sign of improving. It's annoying, because I do really want to finish this and I had other fics planned for them too but I don't know. The premiere left such a bad taste in my mouth. Knowing me, though, I'll probably end up hanging in there for the handful of characters I still love (I'm looking at you, my relationship with GG).
just don't fall
recklessly, headlessly in love with me
"You should consider this the highest of honors," Kurt tells Blaine, eyebrow arched. "I had to do some serious convincing." A tiny smile curls the edges of his mouth. "There were pie charts and a PowerPoint presentation and everything."
"I am honored," Blaine assures him, shuffling nervously as he shifts his duffle bag from one shoulder to the other. "This won't end up like the last time, will it?"
"You puking all over my Viktor and Rolf Spring 2008 inspired bathroom? No. Rachel swore there would be absolutely no alcohol. I think she's turned off it for life."
Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."
A moment later the door opens and Rachel squeals loudly, ushering them in. "You're late," she says bluntly, "which I suppose some may consider fashionable but I largely find unprofessional. However, due to the casual nature of the evening, it can be forgiven."
Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine when she turns to lead the way up to her room. "We're so grateful, Rachel, thank you."
Blaine grins.
The girls are already in their pajamas. Mercedes' have cupcakes printed all over them and Rachel is in something ruffled and pink; Tina's lace up the front, distinctly wench-y.
Kurt casts a critical eye over all of them. "You dressed up for Blaine."
"No we didn't," Tina says immediately, blinking innocently at Kurt. "This is how we always look."
"Mhm," he says disbelievingly. "You are wearing lipstick. To sleep."
"You all look very pretty," Blaine interjects with a smile. He thinks of the carefully packed navy-and-white striped pajamas in his bag. "To be honest, I dressed up for you too."
Rachel beams and Kurt softens a little too. Rachel takes advantage of this to shove them out into the hall. "You should get changed! And quickly, we are not waiting for you to start Grease."
"Again?" Kurt grumbles, grabbing Blaine's sleeve to tug him down the hall towards the bathroom.
Blaine is touched, pleased really, that they want him to like them as much as he wants them to like him.
Kurt takes the bathroom first. Through the door, he says, "They are shameless in their attempt to win you over."
"They should be," Blaine teases. "I'm very hard to win."
"Please," Kurt scoffs. "You love everyone." The door opens to reveal Kurt in his dark blue silk pajamas, vaguely familiar to Blaine from the time he stayed over at Kurt's. With disconcerting intuition, Kurt continues, "And everyone loves you. So don't worry about it."
Kurt turns back to the sink the start his skincare routine, leaving the door open; Blaine trails in and sits on the edge of the tub.
"I still don't think Mercedes likes me very much," he admits.
"Well." Kurt glances at him. "She's just protective of me. Not that she has any reason to be."
"Right." Blaine looks down a moment, then back up with a grin. "I guess I do monopolize your time."
Kurt splashes water on his face; Blaine can see him try not to smile. "Don't feel too guilty about that."
When they get to the school dance scene, Rachel points at Olivia Newton-John and says, "There. That is exactly what I want for prom."
Kurt raises both eyebrows. "Yes, you would want that. A formal capelet, Rachel? Really?" He sighs. "Why do I even sound surprised."
"Prom?" Blaine asks, eyes still on the screen. Young John Travolta, wow. "That isn't until next year, I thought?"
"Junior prom," Tina says, snagging the bowl of popcorn from Blaine. "It's in a month."
"Oh." He turns to Kurt. "Are you going?"
"We have to go," Rachel interjects. "It's prom."
"None of us have dates," Mercedes says, sounding annoyed. "Except Tina."
"That's not the point!" Rachel exclaims.
"So I'm not going," Mercedes continues, ignoring her.
Rachel frowns, studying Mercedes intently. While she pauses, Kurt takes the opportunity to lean towards Blaine and say, "I thought maybe we could go together. You know, as friends."
Kurt is purposefully watching the screen and not Blaine, his cheeks faintly pink.
This is when Blaine should say no, should quietly explain his less-than-happy past experience with dances, and offer to see a movie that night instead. But, for whatever reason, what he says is, "Yeah. Uh, okay, sure. That'll be fun."
Kurt flashes him a bright smile. "Great. We can go suit shopping this weekend."
Blaine ignores Rachel and Tina as they exchange triumphant glances.
Kurt keeps fussing with Blaine's bowtie, looping and unlooping it, tying and retying. He's biting his bottom lip in concentration and there's a little pucker in his brow.
Lightly, Blaine says, "I thought we were supposed to be suit shopping."
Kurt looks up momentarily, a confused smile. "We are."
"No," Blaine says, "you're dressing me up like a My Size Ken doll."
Kurt huffs a tiny laugh. "You're hardly my size."
Blaine purses his lips and chooses to ignore that. "I find it hard to believe that you're not bothering to look for yourself." He narrows his eyes, studying Kurt. "So you must already have something."
Kurt whirls away with Blaine's tie in his hands and goes about choosing another, his back to Blaine. Coyly, "Maybe."
"You do!" Blaine laughs. "I can't believe you didn't tell me. What is it? I bet it's fantastic."
In the mirror, Blaine catches Kurt's reflection, his pleased blush. "What is it?" Blaine teases. "Tailcoat? Bright red suit with safety pins down the sides?"
Kurt arches an eyebrow but he's flushing steadily darker. "Blaine, prom is supposed to be special. Why would I wear a boring old everyday outfit?"
Blaine laughs. "Alright, then I'm stumped. Spill."
Kurt won't. They purchase Blaine a suit, drive back to Kurt's, watch TV – with Blaine wheedling the entire time. Finally Kurt gives in, packing Blaine next to Finn and his father so they can all experience the big reveal at once.
Even with all the anticipation (and part of him is still rooting for the tailcoat), Blaine isn't really prepared for it.
"Well?" Kurt twirls, happy, kilt fanning out around him.
Finn thinks it's awesome. Mr. Hummel shakes his head, amused. Blaine knows he should say something nice but what comes out is, "Kurt, it's lovely, but –"
"But?" Kurt echoes dangerously. He eyes the collar of Blaine's polo disdainfully.
"Isn't it," Blaine begins hesitantly. "Isn't it a little…attention-seeking?"
"Attention-seeking," Kurt repeats, slow and clipped. "You aren't very good at compliments, Blaine, you know that?"
"Kurt, we both know you're trying to stir the pot a little bit," Mr. Hummel interjects, eyebrows raised at Kurt. "I think you want to get some attention."
"You don't want to give people a reason to cause trouble," Blaine says.
"There are a lot of bad people out there." Mr. Hummel leans back in his chair. "Worse than that Karofsky kid. I, uh, I want you to be yourself but – I also want you to be practical."
Kurt huffs at both of them, arms crossed. "This is my prom. It's about fun. And school has been good since I got back." He gets that determined look on his face, both eyebrows raised imperiously. "I am wearing this suit. I worked hard on it and it's fantastic. If you don't want to join me, you don't have to."
He turns on his heel and marches towards the stairs.
Mr. Hummel just smiles. When Blaine looks at him strangely, he says, "It's not Kurt without at least one storm off. Go after him in five minutes, just give him some time." He starts to open his paper, still amused. "You know what I wore to my prom? I wore a powdered blue tux with a ruffled shirt, with a big velour bowtie." He shakes his head. "I looked like Tony Orlando."
Blaine's eyes narrow curiously. "Is that a designer?"
Blaine does go after Kurt (ten minutes later than he intended, caught up in a football argument), tapping lightly on his door. Kurt glances up, dressed normally again; he's fixing the hem of the kilt, all teensy tiny stitches.
"Do you ever have that dream," Kurt asks, "where you're performing a number in front of ten foot lights spelling out your name?"
Blaine sits next to him, frowning. "Doesn't everyone?"
Kurt smiles a little. "I just want to have one fun, normal night and wear something amazing and not have to deal with – with anything awful."
"I want that too," Blaine says softly.
"The bullying has stopped, Blaine, I promise," Kurt says earnestly, finally looking up. "Santana's the Eva Peron prom queen candidate. She's keeping order. She's terrifying. No one's bothered me for weeks."
Blaine bites his lip. "I want to come, Kurt, but…" Now. Now is the time to tell Kurt everything, to tell him about Jack and getting beat up and why he transferred and – and just everything. But Blaine doesn't. "Okay. Okay. We'll go and dance and have a good time." He smiles. "I believe in Santana's ability to control a crowd."
Kurt beams then and Blaine thinks that's the reason he does stupid things, just so Kurt will look that happy.
Prom is great for about half an hour.
New Directions sings (Tina and Brittany even yanking Blaine onstage to be their backup dancer). Kurt and Blaine dance a tasteful distance away from each other. It's fun, it's normal, it's everything Kurt wanted it to be.
Until the prom queen crowning, when Kurt's name is called instead of any of the girls on stage.
Blaine has a moment of rising horror and, grossly, relief. He'd been waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop and now it had. It passes and then he's furious – why would the principal read it? Why would they let this happen?
He realizes belatedly Kurt has made a run for it but as soon as he does Blaine is after him, Mercedes quick at his heels, her hands full of her voluminous purple skirt.
"Kurt!" he shouts. "Please, Kurt, stop – it was just a dumb joke." He remembers Kurt's face, his soft voice, not wanting to deal with anything awful. "A really dumb joke."
"I'm not going back in there," Kurt says immediately, face crumpling. "I'm not."
Blaine and Mercedes hang back, not sure if Kurt is seeking reassurances or wants to be left alone. "So we can go," Mercedes says simply. "Screw them, Kurt."
Kurt is pacing now, cheeks still wet with tears but breathing slightly more under control. "Sit," Blaine urges. "Let's just sit."
"I don't know, I don't know." Sharply, Kurt turns, walks the few feet back to Blaine and Mercedes and turns back.
Blaine swallows, and says, "You know, I – there was a dance, in eighth grade." Mercedes shoots him a what are you on about? look and Kurt barely pauses but Blaine continues, "I went with, uh, I went with this friend who was also…out." The gets Kurt's attention. "We got jumped by some – some kids."
"Jumped?" Kurt echoes.
Blaine touches a spot on his temple, almost obscured by his hairline. "Five stitches."
"Blaine," Kurt breathes. "You didn't –"
Blaine can feel Mercedes watching him. "I know. I just – I wish this hadn't happened to you."
Mercedes clears her throat, seems to be asking both of them, "So what do you want to do?"
Looking determined, Kurt says, "I am going to go back in there and get coronated. Show them it doesn't matter if they're yelling at me or whispering behind my back. They can't touch me." He looks at Blaine and amends, "Us."
"You sure?" Blaine asks.
Kurt nods. "One hundred percent."
After prom everyone piles into Kurt's car and they go to a tacky, repulsive diner (in Kurt's words, as he protests vigorously and is ignored entirely and drives them anyway). They all squish into two booths – Mercedes, Sam, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Artie, Tina, and Rachel (Finn, Quinn, and Jesse noticeably absent) – and talk over each other. Kurt snaps at Tina for sitting on his kilt and Santana steals his crown, claiming it goes better with her dress. Brittany eats everyone's fries and no one knows how to split the check.
"If you give that to me just because I'm Asian," Mike says, staring at the check, "I am going to be so offended."
Kurt is pressed into Blaine's side, still warily eyeing the pathetic salad he'd ordered and casting wistful glances at Blaine's half-finished chicken sandwich, and Blaine is really, really happy.
After all the fervor of the McKinley junior prom, Dalton seems even more bland than before. He remembers the casualness of New Directions' performance in the choir room as he and the boys side-shuffle predictably. It had been so spur of the moment and happy, so easy. Blaine is a little bit jealous.
If he's honest with himself, he's a lot jealous.
He's moping around the dorms almost as much as he did when Kurt left. "Blaine," David says from the other side of their room, a sigh in his voice. "Not all of us enjoy listening to 'Gone' eight times in a row."
Blaine sprawls on his bed, tie undone. "It speaks to me."
"You've been unhappy for weeks."
Stubbornly, Blaine says, "No I haven't."
"You have," David insists. "Unless you're coming or going from Lima."
Blaine opens his mouth to protest again but he realizes it's true.
Blaine is spending a rare weekend at home, curled in an armchair with a book and not even bothering to pretend to read. He studies his mother's face for a long moment before saying, much less eloquently than he intends to, "Isn't Dalton, um, expensive?"
"Hm, honey?" Her gaze travels over her paperwork, glasses slipping down her nose. She doesn't look up. "What did you say?"
"School," Blaine says. He needs to be concise if he wants her to listen. "Dalton. It's it too pricey? Shouldn't I be saving for college instead?"
Interest piqued, she sits back. "You can get loans for college, honey." She folds her glasses into the V of her shirt, eyes focusing on him curiously. "You know all this. We talked about all this when you transferred."
"I've just been thinking about…public school," he says carefully, fingers absently tracing the books embossed title. "It's closer to home, you know. And I could live here instead of in dorms."
"It's equidistant." Eyes narrowing, she says, "Blaine, is this about your –" She hesitates and he can hear her think boyfriend before she opens her mouth to say it.
"He's not my boyfriend," Blaine says, eyes downcast. "This isn't about Kurt. It's about me."
She seems relieved.
"I just maybe want to try again," he continues. He was hoping he'd sound more convincing than this. "I've made a lot of friends at McKinley and I like them and – won't you and dad be happy to have me around?"
"Honey." She studies him. "You remember why you needed so badly to go to Dalton, don't you?"
Blaine flushes, curling into the chair. He hates how speaking to his parents makes him feel like he's twelve all over again. "I'm older now. I'd have friends there."
She considers him. "Well." She sighs and turns back to her working, gives him the dreaded, "We'll discuss it with your father."
Blaine doesn't know why she bothers with the platitude. His father won't care – ultimately, neither does she.
He makes a meeting to see the McKinley guidance counselor on his own, since she normally deals with transfer students. She's a birdlike redhead with dollish eyes, hands clasped as she smiles waveringly at Blaine.
"I saw the Warblers perform at Sectionals, you know," she says. "You were very good. I know the show choir here will be pleased to have you."
That's part of it, Blaine thinks. With New Directions he'll feel like he's really part of something, not just another guy in a blazer. He knows ultimately the Warblers won't miss him. They've always been that way; one boy leaves and another is primed to smoothly take his place.
Maybe Thad will miss him, though.
Ms. Pillsbury gives Blaine a neat stack of pamphlets (snuck amongst them some he's sure are the same ones Kurt's father gave him) and paperwork before sending him on his way.
He's not sure why he doesn't tell Kurt about any of it.
David and Wes seem a little betrayed when he makes his announcements to the rest of the Warblers, but also like they expected it.
Blaine doesn't really know how he feels. Perhaps he's just giving into the rashness of character his father is always harping on. He guesses he won't know until he tries.
It's not hard to find Kurt in the hallway in his vibrant shirt and clomping boots, hair coiffed and posture already defensive. Blaine darts through the crowd to get to him before the bell rings. When he taps Kurt's shoulder, Kurt turns half-ready to bite his head off without even knowing who he is. Blaine's a little startled (he's never seen Kurt so openly hostile) but he recovers quickly, beaming.
"Hi," Blaine says. "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." Kurt is gaping a little, seemingly shocked into silence. Blaine waves his schedule at Kurt. "I can't find my Italian class."
"Why are you here?" Kurt says (thankfully sounding excited). His eyes sweep over Blaine. "What are those pants?"
Blaine shifts from foot to foot awkwardly. "You like red."
"Are you really here?" A small smile is beginning to ease onto Kurt's face. "You're not just a delusion that sprang up because I want you to be here so much?"
Blaine grins, pleased. "I'm really here." He sticks out a hand. "Blaine Anderson, official McKinley high school junior."
Kurt smacks his proffered hand away, laughing brightly. "Note to Blaine: you're already way too well-mannered to be a public school student."
"I'll work on that." Blaine furrows his brow. "Your belt is unfortunate."
Kurt frowns. "Not the right way to start." He latches a hand onto Blaine's wrist. "Come on, I have French, it's right in the same wing." After a few feet Kurt stops and turns and smiles. "It's kind of like Bizarro Dalton, isn't it?"
Blaine laughs. "Yeah, but so far I like it."
"Get back to me in a week," Kurt says.
The very first thing Blaine must do, according to Kurt, is audition for New Directions. "But don’t you worry," Kurt says. "Everyone gets in."
Mr. Schuester welcomes him warmly. "Mr. Schuester," Rachel says primly, eyeing Blaine with intent, "I think a duet assignment would be the perfect way to welcome Blaine into New Directions and who better to show him the ropes than myself –"
Finn frowns at her.
"You are not getting a new duet partner out of this," Kurt says snappishly. "Could you give Blaine ten minutes to adjust before you're casting him opposite you in the production of Grease inside your head?"
Far from being a deterrent, it seems like Kurt has just given her an idea. Rachel's eyes light up.
Mrs. Schue ignores them and prompts Blaine to start, when he's ready. Blaine nods, heart hammering away, calmed somewhat when he gets to the front of the room and he's facing the crowd. He's good at crowds.
The piano starts behind him, other instruments picking up quickly. Blaine grins, his performance switch flipping, and he's on a chair before he knows it. "I know wanna leave me," he sings, "But I refuse to let you go."
Tina gives him a little woo! and gets up to dance, followed by Quinn and Mercedes, then Mike, then Puck. Soon everyone's dancing around Blaine, but he's only looking at Kurt, waiting for Kurt to laugh. He executes a failed-from-the-start spinning jump from his chair, slides smoothly to Kurt and holds out a hand that is quickly taken.
"Ain't too proud to plead," Blaine sings, giving Kurt a twirl and beaming when he finally hears Kurt's laughter. Kurt mouths the words along with Blaine. Please don't leave me, girl.
Everyone claps when it's over and it's official: Blaine's not a Warbler anymore.
After everyone rushes off home (Kurt having to tag along with Finn and chastising Blaine for surprising him that day), Blaine stays to chat with Mr. Schuester a little. He's tangentially aware of Santana lingering too but it's not until Schue leaves that she speaks to him.
"That was kind of pointed, huh, Preppy?"
"Pointed?" Blaine echoes blankly. "What are you talking about?"
Santana drops into a chair, eyebrow raised. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you mean my song?" Blaine asks. "It's just a song." The songs are what he does. Music's what he falls back on.
She crosses her arms and legs, pinning him with a stare. "Mmmhm." When he doesn't elaborate, she says, "Whitebread, you're gonna have to find a new story to peddle, cause I ain't buying."
Blaine sighs and bites his lip and shrugs and fiddles with his bag again and does anything to avoid answering. It's not like he doesn't know Kurt likes him – or liked him, it has been a while. He wonders about it sometimes, feeling flattered and embarrassed. It doesn't mean anything, ultimately, because Kurt doesn't need a relationship right now, he needs a friend.
Mentally reassured, he says to her, "Kurt's my best friend. And I…never had that before him. I mean, I had friends, of course I did, but not…like him." Blaine struggles to articulate himself. "I don't want to wreck it. He means a lot to me. What if we end up being completely wrong for each other? What if we broke up, you know? What if he never spoke to me again?" Blaine shakes his head. "I'd rather not than risk all that."
Santana observes him for a long moment. Blaine expects (hopes) she'll say he's being stupid but she just gets up and struts past him, says, "You break his heart, you got twelve angry bitches to deal with, Preps."
"I'll keep it in mind," Blaine says faintly.
Part Four
Pairings/Characters: Kurt/Blaine, Blaine-centric.
Rating/Word Count: PG // 3685
Summary: It's official: Blaine's not a Warbler anymore.
Part One
Part Two
Note: This took so long to finish because, well, the Glee Machine is really disheartening for a number of reasons and, even though I still do love this pairing, it's really hard for me to enjoy Glee at all now. The premiere just made me really furious and spoilers aren't exactly helping and I'm just kind of over this show being such a suckfest. The things that are wrong with it continue to be wrong with it with no sign of improving. It's annoying, because I do really want to finish this and I had other fics planned for them too but I don't know. The premiere left such a bad taste in my mouth. Knowing me, though, I'll probably end up hanging in there for the handful of characters I still love (I'm looking at you, my relationship with GG).
just don't fall
recklessly, headlessly in love with me
"You should consider this the highest of honors," Kurt tells Blaine, eyebrow arched. "I had to do some serious convincing." A tiny smile curls the edges of his mouth. "There were pie charts and a PowerPoint presentation and everything."
"I am honored," Blaine assures him, shuffling nervously as he shifts his duffle bag from one shoulder to the other. "This won't end up like the last time, will it?"
"You puking all over my Viktor and Rolf Spring 2008 inspired bathroom? No. Rachel swore there would be absolutely no alcohol. I think she's turned off it for life."
Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."
A moment later the door opens and Rachel squeals loudly, ushering them in. "You're late," she says bluntly, "which I suppose some may consider fashionable but I largely find unprofessional. However, due to the casual nature of the evening, it can be forgiven."
Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine when she turns to lead the way up to her room. "We're so grateful, Rachel, thank you."
Blaine grins.
The girls are already in their pajamas. Mercedes' have cupcakes printed all over them and Rachel is in something ruffled and pink; Tina's lace up the front, distinctly wench-y.
Kurt casts a critical eye over all of them. "You dressed up for Blaine."
"No we didn't," Tina says immediately, blinking innocently at Kurt. "This is how we always look."
"Mhm," he says disbelievingly. "You are wearing lipstick. To sleep."
"You all look very pretty," Blaine interjects with a smile. He thinks of the carefully packed navy-and-white striped pajamas in his bag. "To be honest, I dressed up for you too."
Rachel beams and Kurt softens a little too. Rachel takes advantage of this to shove them out into the hall. "You should get changed! And quickly, we are not waiting for you to start Grease."
"Again?" Kurt grumbles, grabbing Blaine's sleeve to tug him down the hall towards the bathroom.
Blaine is touched, pleased really, that they want him to like them as much as he wants them to like him.
Kurt takes the bathroom first. Through the door, he says, "They are shameless in their attempt to win you over."
"They should be," Blaine teases. "I'm very hard to win."
"Please," Kurt scoffs. "You love everyone." The door opens to reveal Kurt in his dark blue silk pajamas, vaguely familiar to Blaine from the time he stayed over at Kurt's. With disconcerting intuition, Kurt continues, "And everyone loves you. So don't worry about it."
Kurt turns back to the sink the start his skincare routine, leaving the door open; Blaine trails in and sits on the edge of the tub.
"I still don't think Mercedes likes me very much," he admits.
"Well." Kurt glances at him. "She's just protective of me. Not that she has any reason to be."
"Right." Blaine looks down a moment, then back up with a grin. "I guess I do monopolize your time."
Kurt splashes water on his face; Blaine can see him try not to smile. "Don't feel too guilty about that."
When they get to the school dance scene, Rachel points at Olivia Newton-John and says, "There. That is exactly what I want for prom."
Kurt raises both eyebrows. "Yes, you would want that. A formal capelet, Rachel? Really?" He sighs. "Why do I even sound surprised."
"Prom?" Blaine asks, eyes still on the screen. Young John Travolta, wow. "That isn't until next year, I thought?"
"Junior prom," Tina says, snagging the bowl of popcorn from Blaine. "It's in a month."
"Oh." He turns to Kurt. "Are you going?"
"We have to go," Rachel interjects. "It's prom."
"None of us have dates," Mercedes says, sounding annoyed. "Except Tina."
"That's not the point!" Rachel exclaims.
"So I'm not going," Mercedes continues, ignoring her.
Rachel frowns, studying Mercedes intently. While she pauses, Kurt takes the opportunity to lean towards Blaine and say, "I thought maybe we could go together. You know, as friends."
Kurt is purposefully watching the screen and not Blaine, his cheeks faintly pink.
This is when Blaine should say no, should quietly explain his less-than-happy past experience with dances, and offer to see a movie that night instead. But, for whatever reason, what he says is, "Yeah. Uh, okay, sure. That'll be fun."
Kurt flashes him a bright smile. "Great. We can go suit shopping this weekend."
Blaine ignores Rachel and Tina as they exchange triumphant glances.
Kurt keeps fussing with Blaine's bowtie, looping and unlooping it, tying and retying. He's biting his bottom lip in concentration and there's a little pucker in his brow.
Lightly, Blaine says, "I thought we were supposed to be suit shopping."
Kurt looks up momentarily, a confused smile. "We are."
"No," Blaine says, "you're dressing me up like a My Size Ken doll."
Kurt huffs a tiny laugh. "You're hardly my size."
Blaine purses his lips and chooses to ignore that. "I find it hard to believe that you're not bothering to look for yourself." He narrows his eyes, studying Kurt. "So you must already have something."
Kurt whirls away with Blaine's tie in his hands and goes about choosing another, his back to Blaine. Coyly, "Maybe."
"You do!" Blaine laughs. "I can't believe you didn't tell me. What is it? I bet it's fantastic."
In the mirror, Blaine catches Kurt's reflection, his pleased blush. "What is it?" Blaine teases. "Tailcoat? Bright red suit with safety pins down the sides?"
Kurt arches an eyebrow but he's flushing steadily darker. "Blaine, prom is supposed to be special. Why would I wear a boring old everyday outfit?"
Blaine laughs. "Alright, then I'm stumped. Spill."
Kurt won't. They purchase Blaine a suit, drive back to Kurt's, watch TV – with Blaine wheedling the entire time. Finally Kurt gives in, packing Blaine next to Finn and his father so they can all experience the big reveal at once.
Even with all the anticipation (and part of him is still rooting for the tailcoat), Blaine isn't really prepared for it.
"Well?" Kurt twirls, happy, kilt fanning out around him.
Finn thinks it's awesome. Mr. Hummel shakes his head, amused. Blaine knows he should say something nice but what comes out is, "Kurt, it's lovely, but –"
"But?" Kurt echoes dangerously. He eyes the collar of Blaine's polo disdainfully.
"Isn't it," Blaine begins hesitantly. "Isn't it a little…attention-seeking?"
"Attention-seeking," Kurt repeats, slow and clipped. "You aren't very good at compliments, Blaine, you know that?"
"Kurt, we both know you're trying to stir the pot a little bit," Mr. Hummel interjects, eyebrows raised at Kurt. "I think you want to get some attention."
"You don't want to give people a reason to cause trouble," Blaine says.
"There are a lot of bad people out there." Mr. Hummel leans back in his chair. "Worse than that Karofsky kid. I, uh, I want you to be yourself but – I also want you to be practical."
Kurt huffs at both of them, arms crossed. "This is my prom. It's about fun. And school has been good since I got back." He gets that determined look on his face, both eyebrows raised imperiously. "I am wearing this suit. I worked hard on it and it's fantastic. If you don't want to join me, you don't have to."
He turns on his heel and marches towards the stairs.
Mr. Hummel just smiles. When Blaine looks at him strangely, he says, "It's not Kurt without at least one storm off. Go after him in five minutes, just give him some time." He starts to open his paper, still amused. "You know what I wore to my prom? I wore a powdered blue tux with a ruffled shirt, with a big velour bowtie." He shakes his head. "I looked like Tony Orlando."
Blaine's eyes narrow curiously. "Is that a designer?"
Blaine does go after Kurt (ten minutes later than he intended, caught up in a football argument), tapping lightly on his door. Kurt glances up, dressed normally again; he's fixing the hem of the kilt, all teensy tiny stitches.
"Do you ever have that dream," Kurt asks, "where you're performing a number in front of ten foot lights spelling out your name?"
Blaine sits next to him, frowning. "Doesn't everyone?"
Kurt smiles a little. "I just want to have one fun, normal night and wear something amazing and not have to deal with – with anything awful."
"I want that too," Blaine says softly.
"The bullying has stopped, Blaine, I promise," Kurt says earnestly, finally looking up. "Santana's the Eva Peron prom queen candidate. She's keeping order. She's terrifying. No one's bothered me for weeks."
Blaine bites his lip. "I want to come, Kurt, but…" Now. Now is the time to tell Kurt everything, to tell him about Jack and getting beat up and why he transferred and – and just everything. But Blaine doesn't. "Okay. Okay. We'll go and dance and have a good time." He smiles. "I believe in Santana's ability to control a crowd."
Kurt beams then and Blaine thinks that's the reason he does stupid things, just so Kurt will look that happy.
Prom is great for about half an hour.
New Directions sings (Tina and Brittany even yanking Blaine onstage to be their backup dancer). Kurt and Blaine dance a tasteful distance away from each other. It's fun, it's normal, it's everything Kurt wanted it to be.
Until the prom queen crowning, when Kurt's name is called instead of any of the girls on stage.
Blaine has a moment of rising horror and, grossly, relief. He'd been waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop and now it had. It passes and then he's furious – why would the principal read it? Why would they let this happen?
He realizes belatedly Kurt has made a run for it but as soon as he does Blaine is after him, Mercedes quick at his heels, her hands full of her voluminous purple skirt.
"Kurt!" he shouts. "Please, Kurt, stop – it was just a dumb joke." He remembers Kurt's face, his soft voice, not wanting to deal with anything awful. "A really dumb joke."
"I'm not going back in there," Kurt says immediately, face crumpling. "I'm not."
Blaine and Mercedes hang back, not sure if Kurt is seeking reassurances or wants to be left alone. "So we can go," Mercedes says simply. "Screw them, Kurt."
Kurt is pacing now, cheeks still wet with tears but breathing slightly more under control. "Sit," Blaine urges. "Let's just sit."
"I don't know, I don't know." Sharply, Kurt turns, walks the few feet back to Blaine and Mercedes and turns back.
Blaine swallows, and says, "You know, I – there was a dance, in eighth grade." Mercedes shoots him a what are you on about? look and Kurt barely pauses but Blaine continues, "I went with, uh, I went with this friend who was also…out." The gets Kurt's attention. "We got jumped by some – some kids."
"Jumped?" Kurt echoes.
Blaine touches a spot on his temple, almost obscured by his hairline. "Five stitches."
"Blaine," Kurt breathes. "You didn't –"
Blaine can feel Mercedes watching him. "I know. I just – I wish this hadn't happened to you."
Mercedes clears her throat, seems to be asking both of them, "So what do you want to do?"
Looking determined, Kurt says, "I am going to go back in there and get coronated. Show them it doesn't matter if they're yelling at me or whispering behind my back. They can't touch me." He looks at Blaine and amends, "Us."
"You sure?" Blaine asks.
Kurt nods. "One hundred percent."
After prom everyone piles into Kurt's car and they go to a tacky, repulsive diner (in Kurt's words, as he protests vigorously and is ignored entirely and drives them anyway). They all squish into two booths – Mercedes, Sam, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Artie, Tina, and Rachel (Finn, Quinn, and Jesse noticeably absent) – and talk over each other. Kurt snaps at Tina for sitting on his kilt and Santana steals his crown, claiming it goes better with her dress. Brittany eats everyone's fries and no one knows how to split the check.
"If you give that to me just because I'm Asian," Mike says, staring at the check, "I am going to be so offended."
Kurt is pressed into Blaine's side, still warily eyeing the pathetic salad he'd ordered and casting wistful glances at Blaine's half-finished chicken sandwich, and Blaine is really, really happy.
After all the fervor of the McKinley junior prom, Dalton seems even more bland than before. He remembers the casualness of New Directions' performance in the choir room as he and the boys side-shuffle predictably. It had been so spur of the moment and happy, so easy. Blaine is a little bit jealous.
If he's honest with himself, he's a lot jealous.
He's moping around the dorms almost as much as he did when Kurt left. "Blaine," David says from the other side of their room, a sigh in his voice. "Not all of us enjoy listening to 'Gone' eight times in a row."
Blaine sprawls on his bed, tie undone. "It speaks to me."
"You've been unhappy for weeks."
Stubbornly, Blaine says, "No I haven't."
"You have," David insists. "Unless you're coming or going from Lima."
Blaine opens his mouth to protest again but he realizes it's true.
Blaine is spending a rare weekend at home, curled in an armchair with a book and not even bothering to pretend to read. He studies his mother's face for a long moment before saying, much less eloquently than he intends to, "Isn't Dalton, um, expensive?"
"Hm, honey?" Her gaze travels over her paperwork, glasses slipping down her nose. She doesn't look up. "What did you say?"
"School," Blaine says. He needs to be concise if he wants her to listen. "Dalton. It's it too pricey? Shouldn't I be saving for college instead?"
Interest piqued, she sits back. "You can get loans for college, honey." She folds her glasses into the V of her shirt, eyes focusing on him curiously. "You know all this. We talked about all this when you transferred."
"I've just been thinking about…public school," he says carefully, fingers absently tracing the books embossed title. "It's closer to home, you know. And I could live here instead of in dorms."
"It's equidistant." Eyes narrowing, she says, "Blaine, is this about your –" She hesitates and he can hear her think boyfriend before she opens her mouth to say it.
"He's not my boyfriend," Blaine says, eyes downcast. "This isn't about Kurt. It's about me."
She seems relieved.
"I just maybe want to try again," he continues. He was hoping he'd sound more convincing than this. "I've made a lot of friends at McKinley and I like them and – won't you and dad be happy to have me around?"
"Honey." She studies him. "You remember why you needed so badly to go to Dalton, don't you?"
Blaine flushes, curling into the chair. He hates how speaking to his parents makes him feel like he's twelve all over again. "I'm older now. I'd have friends there."
She considers him. "Well." She sighs and turns back to her working, gives him the dreaded, "We'll discuss it with your father."
Blaine doesn't know why she bothers with the platitude. His father won't care – ultimately, neither does she.
He makes a meeting to see the McKinley guidance counselor on his own, since she normally deals with transfer students. She's a birdlike redhead with dollish eyes, hands clasped as she smiles waveringly at Blaine.
"I saw the Warblers perform at Sectionals, you know," she says. "You were very good. I know the show choir here will be pleased to have you."
That's part of it, Blaine thinks. With New Directions he'll feel like he's really part of something, not just another guy in a blazer. He knows ultimately the Warblers won't miss him. They've always been that way; one boy leaves and another is primed to smoothly take his place.
Maybe Thad will miss him, though.
Ms. Pillsbury gives Blaine a neat stack of pamphlets (snuck amongst them some he's sure are the same ones Kurt's father gave him) and paperwork before sending him on his way.
He's not sure why he doesn't tell Kurt about any of it.
David and Wes seem a little betrayed when he makes his announcements to the rest of the Warblers, but also like they expected it.
Blaine doesn't really know how he feels. Perhaps he's just giving into the rashness of character his father is always harping on. He guesses he won't know until he tries.
It's not hard to find Kurt in the hallway in his vibrant shirt and clomping boots, hair coiffed and posture already defensive. Blaine darts through the crowd to get to him before the bell rings. When he taps Kurt's shoulder, Kurt turns half-ready to bite his head off without even knowing who he is. Blaine's a little startled (he's never seen Kurt so openly hostile) but he recovers quickly, beaming.
"Hi," Blaine says. "Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." Kurt is gaping a little, seemingly shocked into silence. Blaine waves his schedule at Kurt. "I can't find my Italian class."
"Why are you here?" Kurt says (thankfully sounding excited). His eyes sweep over Blaine. "What are those pants?"
Blaine shifts from foot to foot awkwardly. "You like red."
"Are you really here?" A small smile is beginning to ease onto Kurt's face. "You're not just a delusion that sprang up because I want you to be here so much?"
Blaine grins, pleased. "I'm really here." He sticks out a hand. "Blaine Anderson, official McKinley high school junior."
Kurt smacks his proffered hand away, laughing brightly. "Note to Blaine: you're already way too well-mannered to be a public school student."
"I'll work on that." Blaine furrows his brow. "Your belt is unfortunate."
Kurt frowns. "Not the right way to start." He latches a hand onto Blaine's wrist. "Come on, I have French, it's right in the same wing." After a few feet Kurt stops and turns and smiles. "It's kind of like Bizarro Dalton, isn't it?"
Blaine laughs. "Yeah, but so far I like it."
"Get back to me in a week," Kurt says.
The very first thing Blaine must do, according to Kurt, is audition for New Directions. "But don’t you worry," Kurt says. "Everyone gets in."
Mr. Schuester welcomes him warmly. "Mr. Schuester," Rachel says primly, eyeing Blaine with intent, "I think a duet assignment would be the perfect way to welcome Blaine into New Directions and who better to show him the ropes than myself –"
Finn frowns at her.
"You are not getting a new duet partner out of this," Kurt says snappishly. "Could you give Blaine ten minutes to adjust before you're casting him opposite you in the production of Grease inside your head?"
Far from being a deterrent, it seems like Kurt has just given her an idea. Rachel's eyes light up.
Mrs. Schue ignores them and prompts Blaine to start, when he's ready. Blaine nods, heart hammering away, calmed somewhat when he gets to the front of the room and he's facing the crowd. He's good at crowds.
The piano starts behind him, other instruments picking up quickly. Blaine grins, his performance switch flipping, and he's on a chair before he knows it. "I know wanna leave me," he sings, "But I refuse to let you go."
Tina gives him a little woo! and gets up to dance, followed by Quinn and Mercedes, then Mike, then Puck. Soon everyone's dancing around Blaine, but he's only looking at Kurt, waiting for Kurt to laugh. He executes a failed-from-the-start spinning jump from his chair, slides smoothly to Kurt and holds out a hand that is quickly taken.
"Ain't too proud to plead," Blaine sings, giving Kurt a twirl and beaming when he finally hears Kurt's laughter. Kurt mouths the words along with Blaine. Please don't leave me, girl.
Everyone claps when it's over and it's official: Blaine's not a Warbler anymore.
After everyone rushes off home (Kurt having to tag along with Finn and chastising Blaine for surprising him that day), Blaine stays to chat with Mr. Schuester a little. He's tangentially aware of Santana lingering too but it's not until Schue leaves that she speaks to him.
"That was kind of pointed, huh, Preppy?"
"Pointed?" Blaine echoes blankly. "What are you talking about?"
Santana drops into a chair, eyebrow raised. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you mean my song?" Blaine asks. "It's just a song." The songs are what he does. Music's what he falls back on.
She crosses her arms and legs, pinning him with a stare. "Mmmhm." When he doesn't elaborate, she says, "Whitebread, you're gonna have to find a new story to peddle, cause I ain't buying."
Blaine sighs and bites his lip and shrugs and fiddles with his bag again and does anything to avoid answering. It's not like he doesn't know Kurt likes him – or liked him, it has been a while. He wonders about it sometimes, feeling flattered and embarrassed. It doesn't mean anything, ultimately, because Kurt doesn't need a relationship right now, he needs a friend.
Mentally reassured, he says to her, "Kurt's my best friend. And I…never had that before him. I mean, I had friends, of course I did, but not…like him." Blaine struggles to articulate himself. "I don't want to wreck it. He means a lot to me. What if we end up being completely wrong for each other? What if we broke up, you know? What if he never spoke to me again?" Blaine shakes his head. "I'd rather not than risk all that."
Santana observes him for a long moment. Blaine expects (hopes) she'll say he's being stupid but she just gets up and struts past him, says, "You break his heart, you got twelve angry bitches to deal with, Preps."
"I'll keep it in mind," Blaine says faintly.
Part Four